Just your friendly advice giver here to serve.

On Mondays and Wednesdays Turner goes to the YWCA for after-school care. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays Turner gets to play on the playground with the other kids who have flexible-schedule parents. I've not been able to penetrate the mom's group that takes comfort under a shade tree each day. Andy says he really hasn't tried to penetrate the group. I imagine him on Fridays standing off to the side taking every body, gesture, and conversation in as is his usual custom. I, on the other hand, want to be liked by the women I have grown to not like. Though, I've not met them officially. Only two of the six have a 1st grader.

So, the first day I picked Turner up from school, I stood under a tree with great shade, and I noticed a mom group congregating nearer to the playground. The next time, I sat nearer to the playground and the mom group stood under the tree. The tree, I've come to see, is their usual territory. These women seem to know each other, perhaps from Kindergarten or because they have older kids attending Jones. They laugh out loud and seem to talk often about some of the teachers. Not to say anything negative about them, but to make explicit the things they know about a teacher's personal life, which is of course a negative practice. But whatever. I'd just like to make friends. Preferably women who like to drink wine and talk about social politics. I'm thinking I need a new scene to find such richness of conversation.

The dad scene is much more active and inviting. All the dads have talked to me. They are often involved in kid play, which might be what Andy does. I can imagine him chasing kids and helping pull one or more out of a tree. Since I'm usually in work clothes, which has included heels nearly everyday, playing is not practical or possible.

On Tuesday I'm sitting at the picnic table in full sun, heels, skirt, and a much too warm black long-sleeve shirt. Turner runs to me occasionally, as usual, to update me on who he is playing with and what they are doing. He keeps me abreast of who is a "friend" and who is just someone he knows or has seen or happens to know his name. Turner, like his mother, is pretty crappy at remembering names.

On this day, I'm swatting sweat bees and melting. Turner is as far from me as he can get, lurking (kind of) around a group of boys under a tree in the corner of the playground yard. I look up just in time to catch his eye, and he takes off running to me as fast as possible. Halfway there, he throws his arms wide and thrusts his chest to the sun. He flies over to me, circling this way and then that, as his feet pound the grass. I'm thinking, he's going to trip and fall because he's looking at the sky and not the ground. He gets to me, takes a big swig of water, and says, "Though those guys aren't my friends, I gave them a handy hint about life." He swigs more water and wipes sweat from his hair.

"Oh yeah. And what was that?" I ask.

"I told them that the more aerodynamic you are, the faster you can run." Another drink of water. "And I'm so glad that on the way up to you I remembered to put my head back. The chin is more aerodynamic I think." He pauses. I nod my head, unsure of what he expects me to say. If I wait long enough, he'll usually give me a hint about what my response should be. "Mom?! So what do you think?"

"About the chin thing?"

He looks at me like I'm very unintelligent, "Uh of course the chin thing. Was my flight convincing?"

"I was totally persuaded by it." He smiles.

"Good." He gives me a hug, which is all hot and sweaty and delicious. Then he says, "Well, I guess we can go now. I've done all I can do here."